


abdication

by wizardcity



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 22:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardcity/pseuds/wizardcity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's easy to leave without a word.</p><p>(Lissa asks them to write letters, they know why.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	abdication

Gregor is the first to go and there’s a giant hole the size of him gouged out of everyone’s heart. It was an arrow wound to Gregor’s heart; Lissa’s smile falls because that was the exact same thing he would say to Nowi. “Oh, is that an arrow to the heart? No, it’s only my dear Nowi!”

Nowi cries the most but Lissa knows this time would have come sooner or later: they were a thousand years apart, petite and ancient Nowi, hulking and jovial Gregor, linked by a wedding ring but not by time.

She’s deemed unfit for battle, Lissa tries to soothe her, yet the clashing red, tear-dipped eyes don’t fade away. No one speaks about it, the funeral is silent and everyone tries hard to erase every memory stained with Gregor from their mind.

Nowi doesn’t smile anymore.

Lissa has late night conversations with Emmeryn in her dreams; gentle, silky gold and green wash over her, caresses her softly and on some nights, it really feels like Emmeryn’s alive, not buried deep beneath the sand of a barren desert in enemy territory. Emmeryn sometimes speaks while Lissa’s at ease and now it’s one of those times.

“Why is Nowi so sad?” Lissa asks, and she feels like she’s nine; the words struggle to form themselves into sentences, the words sting and bite and tear her apart.

“Love’s a beautiful and sad thing, Lissa. Did you know? When someone you love leaves this earth, you want to leave with them,” Emmeryn sighs, hands running through Lissa’s unruly hair, something she did when Lissa was young.

“Oh.”

Lissa doesn’t answer anymore because she’s never felt that kind of love before; she’s only dipped her toes in foolish, week-long crushes, crushed petals amid parchment of love letters; nothing more and nothing less. Somehow she feels disgusted. Emmeryn dissipates from Lissa’s mind like steam from her earthy rabbit stew so loved by Gregor.

♦

Lissa is apprehensive whenever the Shepherds recruit someone else, especially the children. Children is not the right word for them, considering parent and child are only a few years apart. But what else can they call them? They were abandoned by time, lost in tears, forged in the loss and the grief.

Orphans are a better name for them; it flows easily off her tongue with no warning, no grace.

Lucina. Nah. Owain. Laurent. Morgan. Noire. Gerome. Inigo. Brady. Severa. Yarne. Cynthia. Kjelle. Chrom recruits them with an increasingly pained expresion on his face, smile contorted and constricted, fists clenched, body stiff. They lose Virion and Kellam a few weeks after Kjelle joins up with them and it’s like Gregor’s gone all over again.

Lissa doesn’t feel anything anymore; she cries, but her tears are cold, hard diamond. They are rough and chill her to the bone and she wonders where this came from. Was it after Emmeryn? Was it after Gregor? Was it after seeing Nowi’s tears? She doesn’t know; all she feels is absolute emptiness.

Yet she still smiles. She constructs herself like a house of cards with a delicate hand, her expressions shuffled together like a deck of cards, dealt out at astonishing speed so no one sees her cracking underneath. Lissa begins to notice things about the orphans - no, children, she hisses to herself.

They’re lonely like her, even though they’ve all found their parents and are finally loved.

Morgan’s arrows don’t hit their mark; his arms quiver when he pulls back and lets go. The thwack of the arrow shocks him and Lissa thinks it’s because that was the exact way Virion (his father) was killed. His eyes are watery whenever he finishes training but he disguises them in the manner of wiping sweat from his face. Lissa notices and offers him her best smile.

It doesn’t work.

Lucina trains and trains, sword landing blow after blow, with her father, but in the end she is left alone to wander the town in search for pretty dresses much too young and frilly for her - but what else is she supposed to do? Her parents are in the middle of a war; they have no time for her - she’s left to accomodate with a handful of her father’s grunts of approval and her mother’s soft kisses.

Inigo hides himself among a meadow of flowers to try to forget to cry. Laurent buries himself in equations, theories, concepts, resurfacing a week later with a report to hand to his mother, whom is never there. Nah tries and tries to console her mother. Gerome does the same and his mask stays on at all times.

Brady plays the violin at the far edge of camp at night, closing his eyes to imagine an audience. Severa hides behind sharp swords and sharp retorts, polishing them to be as hard as steel. Noire casts hex after hex behind closed doors. Yarne becomes more timid, startled by anything. Cynthia does flower fortunes for the Shepards as replacement for the ever-missing Sumia. Kjelle polishes all the Shepherds’ armor until blisters run all along her hands.

Owain stops naming his moves in that theatrical manner of his that Lissa has grown to love.

Everyone is alone, Lissa realizes, after months of noticing.

♦

Gregor leaves a letter.

It’s almost a year after Gregor left (she still can’t choke out the word dead) and Miriel finds it in his tent that no one wants to empty because it smells like him, reminds everyone of him. It’s a shrine of some sort, Shepherds lay flowers; whenever they move camps, someone always sets it up out of respect.

Miriel emerges from the tent with a yellowed piece of parchment.

“Where is Nowi?” Miriel spits out and Lissa stands rigid.

“Down by the edge of the camp, where she always is,” Lissa answers, “If you want, I can take it to her.” Miriel’s never been one for comfort: she’s clear-cut and rational as ever.

“Thank you, Lissa. I trust you’ll know what to do,” Miriel looks her once in the eyes and walks off to find Chrom.

Lissa’s hands run over the crumpled parchment, all its ridges and bends. There’s a faint scent of sweat emanating from the ribbon and along the front of the roll is Nowi, hashed out in long, harsh lettering. It’s written in black ink and the end of each letter is smudged; Gregor was never one for writing and quills - he preferred to live on grass and earth, not on paper.

Her feet carry her to the edge of camp without knowing and her hands become clammy. Lissa can see Nowi sitting under a barren tree, blankly staring into the distance. Nowi doesn’t register any expression until Lissa crouches down next to her, turning to offer a dying smile, a trace of what it once was.

“There’s a letter for you, Nowi,” Lissa speaks quietly and gently, handing her the parchment.

“From whom?” Nowi’s voice is flat and monotone.

“Gregor.”

Nowi’s face turns to fixate Lissa with an unidentifiable expression - a mix of indignance, fear and happiness. She runs her hand over the parchment like Lissa did.

“It smells like him.”

Lissa doesn’t respond and she waits until Nowi unrolls the parchment to say anything.

“Do you need me to stay here, Nowi?”

“Yes.”

Lissa sits down on the cool earth and watches Nowi, in case she falls apart. Nowi’s eyes devour every word and tears shine in them, pooling in the corners until they stream down her face. A smile appears on her face, wistful yet happy, and Lissa is shocked. Nowi looks up to the sky, hiccups and laughs, clutching the paper to her heart.

She turns to Lissa.

“Can you teach me to make the rabbit stew Gregor liked?” Nowi smiles and grabs Lissa’s hand, shoving the parchment into it.

Lissa’s eyes drop down to the large letters on the page and slowly pieces them into sentences.

_My love Nowi,_

_How are you doing? Gregor is doing well but he is also having trouble with this ink. Gregor is writing this because he had a dream that he left without saying goodbye. Gregor thinks he should write this letter so that if he leaves and forgets to say goodbye, then someone can give you Gregor’s letter. I know Nowi will be sad but don’t worry!_

_Whenever Gregor thinks of Nowi, something happens in his chest and he feels so happy. Gregor found you and we both travelled together and met so many different people. Nowi finally felt like she belonged somewhere, no? It’s good that Nowi felt so happy. Gregor remembers everything Nowi and I have been through together. Gregor wants Nowi to know how much Gregor loves you, so when Gregor leaves, Nowi won’t be sad._

_Gregor loves Nowi very much. When I leave you, Nowi, be sure to enjoy Lissa’s rabbit stew for me. Gregor’ll be watching from up there, waiting for Nowi to join me._

_Goodbye,_

_Gregor_

Lissa finds tears coming to her eyes and this time, they are warm and full of feeling; Lissa’s heart aches and aches and Nowi hugs her. They cry together for a while, under that barren tree.

“What would Gregor say if he saw us, Lissa?” Nowi giggles, wiping tears from her eyes.

“He would wonder why we’re crying and laughing at the same time, silly,” Lissa laughs, handing the parchment back to Nowi. Nowi clutches the parchment to her heart and looks up to the sky.

“So, will you teach me?” Nowi asks, green hair blowing in the wind, tickling Lissa’s nose.

Lissa tackles Nowi from behind and tickles her.

“Sure, I will!” Lissa responds, amid a wave of protesting giggles from Nowi.

♦

Nowi’s tranformation back to her former self lifts the spirits of all the Shepards.

Chrom deems her fit for battle and she fights with Gregor’s letter tucked near her heart.

Lissa teaches her to cook rabbit stew; it takes them three weeks to get it right.

Nowi’s smile lights up the camp, as it used to, and everything falls back into place.

♦

Lissa walks into Owain, Inigo and Brady’s tent a few weeks later and finds every child (can she still call them that?) gathered, deep in conversation. Everyone falls silent and Owain turns around with a sheepish, but sad, expression on his face.

“What’s happening in here?” Lissa asks, eyes roaming over Kjelle, Inigo, Laurent. No one meets her eyes, not even Severa.

No one answers and the tension in the air becomes clear to her.

Severa steps forward, quivering hands perched on her hips.

“We’re all thinking of leaving,” she answers and looks back at everyone else; they nod in agreement.

Lissa doesn’t say anything. Words stick in her throat like daggers and all she can stutter out is - “Why?”

“It is time for us to go. We can’t cling to our parents forever.” Laurent responds, cool and calm as always, his face devoid of emotion. Lissa knows better; Miriel’s the first one to have borne a child. Lissa notices Laurent’s face fall as he sees Frederick and Miriel playing with younger Laurent, ruffling his hair and feeding him.

Lucina responds now, placing a hand on Lissa’s shoulder, “It won’t only be Laurent: it’ll be all of us soon,” Lissa understood that seeing your parents loving someone like you, but not you, was extremely sad. There’s no other word for it.

“I know you don’t want us to leave, Mom, but it’s for the best,” Owain pleads, enveloping Lissa into a hug and resting his head on hers. Lissa cries into Owain’s chest, tear staining his cotton shirt.

“I understand, Owain, but can you and the others need to do something before you leave.”

“What is it?” Severa asks, in that spiteful manner of hers, but Lissa can see her wiping away something that look like tears.

“I want you all to write a letter saying goodbye and give it to me when you’re done.”

♦

Laurent leaves first, after his younger counterpart turns one. Miriel looks around camp frantically while Frederick sits down with a sigh, callused fingers pressed against temples. Lissa hands them the letter and walk away. She hears the shuffling of papers behind her and a choked cry. Lissa turns back to see Miriel holding a lifetime’s worth of experimental reports in her hands. Frederick’s holding the parchment to his chest and he closes his eyes.

“That stupid boy,” Miriel murmurs, a small smile adorning her face as she flips through hundreds of pages.

♦

Inigo and Brady leave a few weeks later in the early hours of dawn; Lissa heard them rustling in their tent next door. Lissa hands Olivia and Henry their letter and once Olivia opens it, a flurry of dried petals blow away in the wind. Henry groans as he reads the letter - “He’s always been good with the ladies, but I can’t believe he really said that. _None of these flowers compare to your beauty, mother._ How cheesy.” Olivia’s eyes well with tears as she traces her fingers over the last sentence and she smiles.

“He finally built up his courage; he says he’ll dance for us when he comes back.”

♦

Maribelle scoffs (“What a charming way to say goodbye.”) when she reads Brady’s letter while Ricken snickers silently. Brady ends the letter with a plethora of exclamation points, claiming that he’ll come back when his violin playing is known all over Ylisse ( _I’LL COME BACK WHEN I”M THE BEST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_ ).

“But my darling boy will be the best violinist this world has ever seen,” Maribelle asserts to Lissa with a proud and watery smile.

♦

Gerome leaves two days after Inigo and Brady.

His letter is on a small notecard and Lissa hands another bag to Cherche. Cherche’s fingers fumble with the clasp on the bag and she pulls out Gerome’s mask. _I’ll be back soon to get this back. Don’t worry_ , the card decrees and Cherche smiles.

“That’s exactly like Gerome: short and to the point.”

♦

Noire leaves with Yarne a month after, in a bumbling, nervous mess: there are papers flying outside everywhere, their clothes are dropped (probably by accident) on the ground, leaving a telltale trail which Lissa cleans up before anyone sees.

Libra sighs when Lissa gives him the letter.

“So, she’s not dead from one of Tharja’s curses? Many thanks, O Great One.”

“Quiet, you,” Tharja jabs an elbow into Libra’s side and he relents.

Libra carefully tears open the letter and gazes at Noire’s small, neat handwriting that marches across the page. Tharja’s eyes widen as she reaches the bottom of the letter. Libra’s face softens, in sharp contrast.

I want to grow stronger, Mother and Father, so that is why I’m leaving. _I’LL COME BACK WHEN THIS RAGING BEAST WITHIN ME DIES IN THE PITS OF HELL SO WAIT FOR ME._

“That girl,” Tharja mutters while Libra allows himself a single smile.

“She’ll be alright, Tharja. Don’t worry; she’s strong because of you.” Tharja fingers Noire’s talisman that’s strung around her neck and nods.

♦

Yarne’s letter is the opposite of Noire’s: the writing is jumbled and shaky, taking wild turns up and down the paper. Panne reads the letter, claws clutching the paper; she sits back on her haunches like it’s second nature and Vaike leans over her shoulder as they try to decipher his handwriting.

“That boy needs to learn better penmanship, Panne,” Vaike comments, hand scratching his neck.

“Shut your ignorant mouth. Taguels have claws that hinder writing. Pay more attention, you fool,” Panne says out of the side of her mouth, continuing to read the letter.

“Sheesh, all right, all right. The Vaike gets what you’re saying,” Vaike relents.

“Yarne’s become a fine Taguel,” Panne looks up at Vaike, “Hasn’t he?”

“That’s my boy.”

_I know now that cowardice is not an excuse for weakness. I’m strong and I will not back down when I’m needed. I am the last of the Taguel and I will act like one. Mother, sorry it took me this long to understand._

♦

Nah leaves alone the following week.

When Lissa hands Nowi the letter, she thinks that Nowi won’t be able to handle it; will she fall apart when she learns that Nah is gone as well?

Nowi doesn’t fall apart. She smiles and reads the letter aloud to Lissa.

_Mother, thank you for everything. I have enjoyed all the times I have played with you; you taught me that training could be fun. I know that being a manakete is hard, since I have learned the curse of Manaketes: they live on this Earth for much too long and know too much loss. I don’t feel alone anymore, now that I’ve found you and Father. Tell Father that I loved him as well. One day, we’ll definitely be together with Father, like a true family._

♦

Severa and Kjelle leave together and Lissa thinks that it’s an interesting combination, to say the least.

Kjelle’s letter is succinct and to the point, no embellishments in her straight, rigid handwriting. Her words are strong and kind and Stahl smiles gently as he puts his hand on Sully’s shoulder. Sully’s hands tremble as she reaches the end of the letter.

_I will make you proud, mother, do not forget. Women are just as capable to destroying as men, unless you are like Father. Father, thank you for teaching me to cook. You both will always have a place in my heart, no matter how far away you may be. I have learned from you both that cowardice is not a bad thing; never look down on someone for being weak. Everyone is strong in their own manner. I love you both very dearly._

“Is that stupid girl telling me that I’m a coward? I think she meant you, Stahl.” Sully bristles at the very mention of cowardice, fists clenching.

“I think she meant both of us, Sully,” Stahl replies and they both reread the letter, ingraining Kjelle’s word into their hearts.

♦

Severa’s letter is scrawled messily on parchment that looked like it’s been doused in water. The ink was smeared but her neat, cute handwriting was still legible. Cordelia takes the letter gently and Gaius peers over her shoulder as Cordelia mouths the words to herself.

_Cordelia, I know it may not seem like it at time, what with my supposed bad attitude and behavior, but know that I, like, seriously respect both you and Gaius. All my life, I’ve been compared to you, Mother, but now I realize it’s good to have someone to look up to, so, yeah, thanks for that. Gaius, you’re cool; thanks for the good food, candy and makeup. Tell Cordelia that she needs to work on her makeup skills. I’ll see you soon at some point. Hopefully._

“Since when did she call us by our first names?” Gaius questioned, staring confusedly at the piece of parchment.

“Since now, I guess. Are my makeup skills really that bad?” Cordelia smiles wistfully at the letter.

“I’m not going to answer.”

♦

Lucina and Cynthia leave three months after Severa and Kjelle do.

Chrom doesn’t know what to say; neither does Sumia. There’s a heavy silence between the three of them and Lissa feels like she’s intruding. She asks them if they want her to read the letters aloud. Chrom doesn’t say anything but Sumia nods, carefully placing a hand on Chrom’s shoulder. Lissa opens the envelope with Cynthia’s vibrant handwriting stroked across the front of it.

There’s one letter between the two of them.

_THANK YOU MOM AND DAD,_

_This is Cynthia, by the way, if you couldn’t tell from my handwriting on the front. Lucina thought it would be better if we wrote the letter together so we did!! I’m supposed to write something sentimental (that’s what Lucina told me)…I don’t know what to say except THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! for everything!! I respect you two so much and one day, I hope I’m half as cool as you two!!! I’ll come back, I swear, and Mom, by then, I’ll have so many flower fortunes you won’t know what to say!!!!!!!! I love you both very much and thank you for spending so much time with me!!!!!!_

_CYNTHIA_

Lissa pauses and looks up. They both are in the same positions as before. Sumia is crying, tears watering the dry earth beneath them. Lissa continues to read.

_Father and Mother,_

_I’m sorry for leaving you without saying goodbye in words, but it would have been harder that way. Thank you so much for everything. Words cannot describe my love for both of you. Chrom, thank you for trusting me all those years ago. Sumia, thank you for your kindness and thoughtfulness. I don’t think I can say anything more without wanting to stay back, but I have a mission to fulfill in this saved world. I’m so glad this world with you two has not fallen to Grima. I love you both very much. I will be back soon. Do not wait for me; live your own life full of happiness, love, and prosperity._

_Love,_

_Lucina_

Lissa looks up to see Chrom composing himself and offering Sumia a reassuring smile and hug. Sumia cries long and deep into Chrom’s shoulder while he pats her head comfortingly.

“They’ll be back soon, Sumia.”

Sumia nods and recollects herself before turning to Lissa.

“Thank you for reading the letter, Lissa.”

♦

Morgan leaves the next week.

Robin already knows, even before Lissa hands her the letter.

“He’s been saying he would do it. Apparently, he thinks he’s becoming a burden,” Robin sighs as she reads through the letter.

Robin starts crying halfway through the letter and Lissa tries hard to console her, but to no avail.

_Goodbye, Mother. I love you from the depths of my heart. Let Father know that I loved him as well. Thank you for teaching me to be the best tactician I can be! There is not much else I can put into words but just know that I’m so glad that this past is so much better than the future that Grima’s wrath holds. Every day I am away from you, I will remember you, so don’t worry! I can handle myself. I want to explore the world and all its wonders once again!! When I come back, we can go visit Father at his grave with a picnic and we’ll recount all our adventures together._

Robin regains her calm, cool-headed self and smiles at the letter.

“He says he’ll come back and I know he will,” Robin says to no one in particular.

♦

Owain is the last one left.

Night after night, Lissa waits and waits for the morning where she’ll walk into Owain’s tent and find the bed empty, clothes gone, weapons missing. It haunts her but she knows it’s coming. The following week after Morgan leaves, someone enters Lissa’s tent.

It’s Owain. There’s a pack on his back and his sword is at his side.

“You’re leaving then, Owain?” Lissa gets up from the bed and walks over to the entrance.

“Yup.” Owain’s words are less flamboyant than usual and Lissa is concerned.

“Are you alright?”

“Yup,” he answers again and hugs Lissa, head resting on top of hers. Lissa’s tears come hot and heavy, staining Owain’s shirt, her hands clutch onto the back of his pack. She doesn’t want to let him go and for a minute, Owain allows her to do what she wants.

After a few more minutes, Owain slowly dislodges himself from Lissa’s arm and turns towards the tent entrance. He turns back with a smile, a sight of his familiar self.

“It’s okay, Mom. Don’t worry. You and I won’t feel alone as long as we remember each other. And I’ll come back! For sure!”

“I know you will.”

“Bye, Mom! See you on the flip side!” Owain flashes some odd handsignal unknown to Lissa and leaves the tent.

Lissa smiles.

♦

Emmeryn appears in her dreams that night, enveloping her in green and gold hues, running her long fingers through Lissa’s hair.

“Did I do the right thing, Emmeryn?”

“Of course, Lissa. Not all that is loved is lost, remember that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I. Oh man, did I make myself sad writing this …but then again, this is one of the few things I’ve written with a relatively happy ending!!!
> 
> II. This was originally supposed to be under 1,500 words. It’s now 4,129 words.
> 
> III. On another note, it’s canon (to me) that Inigo, Brady and Owain share a tent.
> 
> IV. Thanks for reading!


End file.
